‘Always,’ said Lara, grinning widely. She grabbed a foil-wrapped loaf from Jack, who’d pulled up behind her, and brandished it. ‘We came bearing garlic bread, though. And party poppers. Just in case Molly has made a decision about the whole job thing. Because Scarletta is psyched. She has a desk picked out for you and everything. With amazing views.’
She waggled the party poppers at me, and I smiled awkwardly.
Mom beamed at me. ‘See? You’d be moving up in the world. You’re too good to grow old and dusty at that little sports magazine.’
I swallowed, looking down at the spiced chai that I’d been sipping on, wondering if I could somehow make myself invisible. Alas, this was a very rare magical ability, and not one I possessed.
‘How’s the migraine, Amelia?’ asked Rosie, rescuing me from Mom’s knowing words.
‘It’s back down to a dull ache,’ said Mom. ‘I got caught up working on the slides for a pitch we’re doing next week, and you know how it goes. Suddenly the sun’s coming up and the migraine aura starts trickling in. Never get old, kids. It’s no joke.’
‘I dunno, I’ve had my share of headaches after a night out,’ said Lara, grinning broadly. ‘It’s the tequila shots that always get me.’
‘Ah,’ said Mom knowingly. ‘And here I was thinking that Molly was just taking after me – and Tiff – and pulling regular all-nighters of the productive kind.’
‘Ugh,’ groaned Lara, in fake disgust. ‘As if I’d ever let Molly beproductive. Except in her new role as Director of Copy.’
‘I’m gonna put this stuff inside,’ I mumbled, taking Lara’s goodies and carting them to the drinks fridge. Great, so Lara had been chatting to Scarletta about the job. Suddenly this was all very real – and all very wrong. Did I really want a fancy desk and daily stand-up meetings and a company credit card? (All right, so maybe the credit card didn’t sound too horrible.)
‘If you ask nicely, I can swing you a company Vespa,’ called Lara.
Okay, so a Vespa would be nice, too.
But I’d miss Eddie and our doughnut-fuelled brainstorming sessions and getting to chat to athletes who were on track to live out their biggest dreams. So our work wasn’t glamorous or even global. I enjoyed it. It felt right to me.
I bit my lip. Was I just feeling that way because staying was easy? Or was my heart finally being honest with me?
I glanced down at my ring, but Josephine had gone silent.
I put the drinks away as slowly as I could, doing the job manually instead of with magic. After the past few weeks, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be using magic for anything, anyway. Everyone’s spells seemed to be going awry, like the time I’d come down with the flu as a kid and had deliriously cast a barrage of charms that had just about turned our townhouse upside down and inside out. I’d possibly brought some gargoyles to life, and had definitely changed the coat pattern of the neighbourhood stray cat.
Meow.
Speaking of cats, Cleo was twining around my legs, her eyes plaintive and her meows similarly so. I’d heard these meows before. Either when she was affronted about the lack of sardines in her bowl – which, given the hearty breakfast I’d seen her eating, wasn’t a problem today – or when thunder was rolling over the ocean.
I heard the whir of the golf cart and glanced out the window to see Finn and Noah pulling up, both equally testy. Finn looked as though he was about to stomp on some flowers or knock out someone’s letterbox, and Noah was so tense I worried he might pull a muscle. Or perhaps have a stroke.
‘Here comes that storm,’ crowed Tiff, her voice coming in through the open window. ‘I told you so! Your personal storm predictor remains infallible!’
As a little sister, I required proof when Tiff proclaimed something. Even though she wasalwaysright. I picked up Cleo and carried her to the French doors that opened out to the backyard.
Somehow, within the past couple of minutes, a dark, magical pall had crept over the sky. Thick clouds sparked ominously, floating so low that they touched the water, which in turn was choppy and roiling, nothing at all like the usual flat, gleaming expanse I was used to. They rumbled, the voice of the energy they carried sounding far closer than I was comfortable with.
Their attention drawn by my movement, Finn and Noah both glanced over at me.
The storm struck.
The sky clapped a sharp applause that coincided with a zigzagging flash, and Josephine’s ring burned hot on my finger. I swore, reminded of the time I’d put a jar of Nutella in the microwave, but had left part of the foil safety lid on.
Thunder boomed, rattling the house, and rain poured forth with the urgency of my en suite’s needle-like showerhead with the pressure dialled all the way up.
I could hear shouts of dismay as the others tried to fend off the pelting rain. Lara squealed, hiding beneath the bottom of Jack’s shirt, and Mom tried valiantly to rescue the cheese platter she’d just put out.
‘Not the Roquefort!’ she cried, using magic to protect her favourite cheese.
‘Party’s coming inside!’ called Rosie, racing in with a magazine over her head. A water-resistant charm shimmered around her, but it was only partially effective, and water trickled down her neck and across her brow.
Tiff tried to cast a protective spell over the outdoor cushions, but the charm went out with a fizzle. With an exasperated huff, she hurried in after Mom.
